


Suggmissive

by suggmissive



Category: Jaspar - Fandom
Genre: Anal Fingering, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Conor Maynard - Freeform, Dildos, Dominance, Fetish, Fluff, Foot Fetish, Gay Sex, Humiliation, Joe Sugg/Caspar Lee - Freeform, M/M, Master/Slave, Masturbation, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Photography, Plot What Plot, Porn, Porn Without Plot, Smut, Submission, Verbal Humiliation, Voyeurism, YouTube, YouTubers - Freeform, troye sivan - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-07-06
Packaged: 2018-09-19 11:05:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9437339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suggmissive/pseuds/suggmissive
Summary: Jaspar smut. Joe is caught masturbating by Caspar, who uses the situation to his advantage. Joe will have to get used to being the house slave.





	1. Guilty Snaps

**Author's Note:**

> The following story contains non-con elements, dominance & submission and humiliation.

Joe Sugg pressed his tongue to the cool porcelain. He was on all fours, naked completely, in the bathroom of their London apartment. His head was in the toilet, and as he knelt there he flicked his tongue across the basin. He remembered reading somewhere that there were more bacteria on your kitchen counter than there were in your toilet bowl. That was little comfort.

Caspar stood behind him. Joe couldn’t see him but he knew he was there.

"Good boy,“ came his deep voice. "Such a good boy.”  
  
Joe felt the hot rush of shame. It seemed to twist his insides. As he licked slowly, he sighed and closed his eyes, not in an attempt to block out what was happening, but just so that he could not see it.  
  
Caspar spoke again. “Who’s a good boy?”  
  
Joe stopped licking. He knew better than to let a question go unanswered.  
  
“I am,” he breathed. “I am, _sir_.” He corrected quickly.  
  


**1 Week Earlier.**  
  


For some reason, Joe had always looked younger than his years. His face was hairless, his chest and stomach like a baby’s bottom, and his legs only lightly sprinkled. He just hadn’t seemed to mature like the rest of his friends. This, he thought, was probably why he still suffered from that same teenage lust. He wanked. A lot. Every morning he’d wake with a tent in his boxers, throbbing, waiting for his attention, and every morning he’d feel his way down there and take care of it. Often, he’d barely gotten the sleep from his eyes before he was touching himself. The mornings were quick. He’d rub himself at super speed, the must of the night’s sleep wafting up from the covers. It was sweaty, precise and over in seconds. Then when he woke up, there’d be one in the shower. This one was more sensual. Sometimes he imagined himself in a porno and rubbed his smooth legs, his abs, pinched his nipples, bit his lip. Breakfast, and if Caspar was out, he’d stick on some porn and rub one out in his bed again. For Joe, wanking was life, and everything in between felt like unimportant distractions. He was in his bed now, panting from his standard morning wank. He drew the hair back from his face, steadied his breathing, and jumped out of bed. There was a knock on his bedroom door.

“One- one sec! I’m bloody nekkid!” Joe shouted.

He pulled a pair of white Calvins over his still-semi cock.

“Jooooooeeee,” came Caspar’s voice. He was doing his classic faux whine. “There’s something wrong with the water up here.”

Joe sighed. “What do you mean?”

"Like, I dunno, it’s all gross.“

Joe laughed. In their flat, he felt like he was the caretaker more than a tenant. Caspar was pretty clueless when it came to living alone. Joe sorted out most things. He didn’t mind that, though. He was the more sensible of the two, though it didn’t always show in their videos. He pulled on a pair of pyjama shorts and a t-shirt and came out to meet Caspar. Caspar was half naked, with just a pair of black jeans on. Joe walked past him nonchalantly, taking special care not to stare. Though he knew Caspar’s body almost as well as his own, Joe still liked to check him out on the sly occasionally.

They were in the kitchen. Joe flipped on the tap and the water came out green and smelly.

"See,” said Caspar. “It wasn’t me.”

“‘course it wasn’t you you muppet! Call the people.”

“The people? What people Joe?”

“The water - you know the tap people!” Joe said, smiling. “The green water people.”

Caspar went downstairs, presumably to fetch his phone.

That afternoon Caspar was out running errands. Joe was sat on the sofa, twiddling his thumbs. He glanced at the laptop on the coffee table - _uploading 32%_. He looked at the TV: old reruns of ITVs _Gladiators_. There was only one thing to do. He rushed downstairs to his bedroom, swung the door shut, and leapt on to his bed. He looked down. He was wearing tight black jeans with ripped knees, a pair of thick white socks and a tight grey t-shirt. The jeans were the first off. He wriggled out of them with a slight struggle. Already, his cock was growing in his boxers. Next, the t-shirt. In the mirror at the end of his bed, he caught himself rushing his clothes off. He was proud of his body - the chocolate bar abs on his fluffless torso, perfectly symmetrical, his boyish pecs, his jawline like an arrow. He smirked and tensed his arms like a wrestler, before lying back and pulling the waistline of his boxers down. As he pulled his underwear off his raised legs, he watched in the mirror. First his pert ass was free, then his little balls rolled out on top of it, then his now erect cock sprung to attention. He shuffled the Calvins off over one leg and led back down, totally naked, on top the duvet.

This would be what he called an 'average wank’, not slow and sensual like when he was home alone all day, but not a rushed morning wank either. He put his hand around his shaft, pulled the foreskin as far back as he could to reveal his purple head. A tiny globule of precum sat on the slit. He collected it on is thumb and sucked it off, then began rubbing his shaft up and down in a steady rhythm. After a minute, his mouth was agape, his tongue was on his top lip and his hand was pumping fast. Images flashed through his head randomly: he was on a beach being pushed down by some hot, topless girl; or he was in the dark, dungeon of some sick porno he’d watched the other day; then Caspar was going down on him. These were the usual stuff he thought of when there was no porn in front of him. He opened his eyes and looked in the mirror again. As he wanked, he lifted his legs almost straight so his socked feet were up in the air and his ass was on show. He let his left hand crawl down to his hole, and felt it with the tip of his finger. He didn’t know what made him do it - it wasn’t a regular occurrence. Maybe it was the Caspar image, maybe it had made him fully gay for this wank and he wanted to feel something inside of him. He grunted from the speed of his wanking. _Ugh, fuck!_ The finger was in up to the first knuckle, lubed only with the sweat of his ass. He closed his eyes. The heat of an orgasm was building in his stomach, in his balls, in his cock -

 _Click-click._ The familiar aperture sound of an iPhone camera. Joe’s finger darted from his ass and his legs came down almost instinctively. He opened his eyes and his heart skipped a beat. Caspar stood in the doorway, his coat still on, his shopping bags at his feet, and his phone in his hand.

“Caspar what the fuck!” Joe scrambled for his boxers, and slipped them on over his hard cock. “What the total fuck!”

Caspar’s mouth was open, speechless. Joe jumped at him and snatched the phone from his hand.

“Oi!” Caspar said, pushing Joe on the bed.

Joe opened the camera app and flicked through Caspar’s albums.

“Why the fuck didn’t you knock or something? Why did you come in?”

“I thought you were out,” exclaimed Caspar.

“Why did you take a picture!?”

Caspar shrugged. “I thought it would look good in a video.”

Joe stared at him with wide-eyed disbelieve. _What?_

“There’s no point deleting it, it’s on the cloud,” Caspar said proudly.

Joe sighed and his stomach sunk. He was now staring at the picture. There he was in the middle of his bed, flushed face, his legs in the air and his white socks slightly dirty from the floor. His hand was a blur on his cock, but his other hand was clearly visible. He was spread on the bed, fingering himself in the cold light of day, and Caspar had it all.

“Listen, Joe.” Caspar laughed. “There’s no need for this photo to end up - say - on Instagram or Twitter or tumblr.”

Joe glared at him over his scrunched brow. His cock was now soft as snow in his Calvins, but his heart was racing like he was still playing with his ass.

“All you have to do,” said Caspar. “Is something for me. Joooeeeee don’t look so down, it’s fun!”

“It’s not fun Caspar it’s weird!”

“Joe this picture is one click away from the interwebs so if I were you I’d stop complaining and listen up.”

Joe’s heart skipped. What ridiculous thing was he going to have him do? They’d blackmailed each other before. Was he to do something humiliating in another stupid prank video? Run around in the garden naked or something?

“What do you want me to do Caspar,” said Joe sternly.

Caspar looked him up and down. They both sat on the bed, but Caspar stood up slowly and closed the door, looked him up and down again, and smiled.

"First of all, let’s see you back as you were.“

 _Huh?_ Joe was lost. Caspar wanted him to carry on masturbating? As far as Joe knew, Caspar was as straight as anything. What the hell was going on? Joe hesitated, waiting for the punchline.

"Quickly,” Caspar said. “The green water people are gonna be here soon!”

Joe couldn’t believe what was happening. All sorts of feelings were bubbling inside of him, the most prominent of them all was embarrassment. Joe waited as long as he could, but Caspar reached silently for his phone.

“No! No, okay,” Joe said reluctantly. “I’ll do it just - just hang on.”

“Great,” said Caspar. “Sweet.”

Joe led back slowly on the bed. Caspar took his coat off and hung it on the chair by his desk. Joe couldn’t bear to look in the mirror as he slid his boxers off this time. His flaccid cock flopped out on to his belly. His face was so red it burnt.

“Well, go on,” Caspar said.

Joe’s mouth was dry, and he was shaking. He reached down and begun tugging at his cock. To his shame he felt it getting harder. It was at least semi when Caspar said:

“That’s not quite how you looked when I came in Sugg.”

Joe closed his eyes and with a deep, deep sigh lifted his legs up high. He felt his butt cheeks part, and knew now that Jaspar could see his hairless hole. If he closed his eyes, it was somehow less humiliating. Now he was hard - was he enjoying this? It didn’t feel like he was, but he felt the wet of precum on the ring of his fingers as they went up and down, up and down, much slower than before.

“One last little detail,” Caspar said.

He didn’t have to say anything else. Joe slipped his left hand down between his crack, and felt for his hole again. He refused to slip it in. It was dry down there, and anyway, Caspar couldn’t see what was going on behind the flat of his hand. He moved it like he was fingering himself and that seemed to be enough for Caspar. For a minute or two, there was silence, not just in the room but in his head. The situation was so desperately humiliating he shut everything out and focused on it like it was a job. The rhythm of his hands.

There was a knock on the door. Joe opened his eyes to see Caspar stood at the foot of the bed, his camera out again. Joe quickly closed his legs and cupped his cock and balls.

“Caspar!” he thought to shout, but what came out was a demoralising squeak from the dryness of his mouth.

“Don’t worry,” Caspar said. “That was just a video for me. My eyes only. For - what’s the word - posterity! Now, stay here, DON’T get dressed. I’m going to let the green water people in.”

Caspar left the room and, bizarrely, Joe did exactly as he was told. He flumped back on the bed and closed his eyes tight. Maybe if he closed them tight enough the world would go away, or he’d wake up and it would have all been a dream. Joe opened his eyes to find the world still there. His boxers still at the end of the bed, his naked reflection still in the mirror, and his cock still hard between his legs. What was this? Was this just one silly lapse of morality from Caspar? Would he let him put his clothes back on and go on as normal when this was done?

Joe heard Caspar talking to someone upstairs. It sounded like two blokes. In his jean pocket, his phone vibrated. Joe grabbed them from the floor and pulled his phone out to see a text from Caspar. His heart skipped a beat. He opened it: _Come upstairs. As you are._

 _No, no, no, no, no._ Joe read it again, everything inside him fluttering nervously. _Come upstairs. As you are._ 'As you are.’ That surely meant completely fucking naked! Joe text back hurriedly: _Are they still up there?_ He could hear their voices still plain as day. “Yes. Hurry. Don’t say a word.”

Joe stood up, overcome with disbelief again. His cock was flaccid again, and as he left his room it swung slightly from side to side. He caught his naked form in the hallway mirror, his cheeks red, his body trembling. Then he was on the stairs, ascending slowly, and the voices were clear. Two blokes, and Caspar, talking about plumbing. He was shivering now, both with anticipation and the cold that pricked his skin and brought his nipples up hard and his balls close. Then he was in the open living space, and the voices had stopped.

The plumbers were maybe as old as his dad, dirtied from a days work, dressed in overalls. They were staring at him, perplexed, and in front of them, Caspar was too, as if he had no clue what was going on. Joe felt like an insect. A tiny, naked insect. Or an animal in a zoo. For a few seconds they all just gaped at him. His nipples had never felt harder or sillier, his balls tighter or his penis smaller. He just hung his head in shame.

Caspar piped up: “Joe! What have I told you about running round the house like that!” Joe went to say something, but Caspar glared him down. “Get out of here!”

The plumbers burst into laughter as Joe slunk away, back to his bedroom, like a humiliated little mouse.


	2. Guiltier Snaps

Conor Maynard was talking about something, but Joe couldn't focus on what. Conor was on Joe's sofa, bottom half naked, his legs spread open, and Joe was naked and knelt in between them, his head bobbing up and down. Though this had become a regular occurrence, Joe still felt hot all over with embarrassment, and his cheeks were still bright red, and his legs were still shaking with frustration as he took Conor's cock from the tip right down the shaft to the balls, back in to his throat like he had been told. Just like he had been told. Conor's cock was the smallest of the boys; still sizeable, but Joe didn't have to worry about choking like he did on Caspar's. Caspar was sat next to Conor, and every now and then he'd reach over to rub Joe's back or run his fingers through his hair.

Conor laughed at something Caspar said. Though Joe hated the way Caspar treated him like a dog sometimes - complete with a leash, and a bowl - and the way Troye Sivan would offer up his bare feet and tell him sternly to lick, there was an entirely new type of debasement in the way Conor paid no attention to him whatsoever. Right now, he was eating a bag of Wotsits, chatting like nothing was happening. Joe felt like a prop or a piece of furniture when Conor was around.

Joe had his eyes closed, but Caspar told him to open them and look up at Conor. He did, and Conor chuckled. Joe still had his cock in his mouth, but he'd stopped to meet with the eyes above him.

"I didn't say stop sucking, did I?" Caspar said.

Joe's heart jumped - it did every time he thought he'd done something wrong. To escape a spanking or a nipple twist he quickly continued at his regular pace, but kept his eyes fixed up like he had been told.

"Okay, I'm gonna cum," Conor said matter-of-factly.

He grabbed Joe's hair and shoved him backwards, so that he was sat on his heels. Conor took his own cock in his hand and began pumping furiously.

"This'll be your first load today won't it, Joe?" Caspar said. "Bet you can't wait."

Joe glared at Caspar. He was smiling mockingly, awaiting a reply he knew would come. It _had_ to come.

"No, sir, I can't wait," Joe said quietly.

He wished he didn't have to reply at all, but he knew he'd be punished if he didn't. Showing Caspar up in front of other people was especially naughty.

Conor grunted, grabbed Joe by the ears, and forced his head back down on his cock. All Joe could smell or see or feel was pubes as Conor shot down his throat. Once, twice, three times, four times - he felt his cock pulse with every spurt. At least it was down his throat, he thought, and he didn't have to taste it, or - as Caspar sometimes made him do - hold it in his open mouth for more pictures. When Conor was finished, he slid out from under Joe and went to the kitchen. Joe sat slumped forward on the sofa, hoping Caspar would leave, too. But he didn't, and Joe felt his eyes all over his toned, naked, heaving body.

"Nice?" Caspar said.

Joe sighed. _Fuck you_ , he wanted to say. "Yes, sir," he actually said.

"What do you say, then?" Caspar asked calmly.

Joe knew what Caspar wanted, but it was too much. He just stared at the floor. Caspar leaned forward, took Joe's chin in his hand, and raised his head slowly. There was just inches between them. Joe could feel Caspar's breath on his face as their eyes locked.

"What do you say?" Caspar asked again, calmly.

The night before, Joe had refused to sit still while Caspar masturbated in front of him. The instruction had been simple: sit on the end of the bed, with his mouth open and his tongue out, awaiting Caspar's cum. But in that instant, Joe didn't care about the reels of photos and videos, didn't care about the gossip sites that would lead with _'Joe Sugg in BDSM scandal!_ ', he just wanted to say: "NO!" And he had, and Caspar had uploaded to tumblr a picture of Joe on all fours on his bed, naked, spreading his cheeks, with his angry face just visible through the gap in his legs. With no tags, it had gotten no notes, but it was a clear enough warning. That, coupled with the bare-hand spanking he had received, was enough to deter him from disobeying. For now.

_"What. Do. You. Say?"_

"Thank you," Joe blurted out. "Thank you, sir."

Caspar smiled a big, gawky smile, ruffled Joe's hair, and went to the kitchen, leaving Joe on his knees, alone.

**1 Week Earlier.**

Joe sat on his bed in silence. He was now fully dressed. Very dressed; he'd put his ripped jeans back on, thrown on a salmon jumper, then a black hoody and a leather jacket over that, then some Chelsea boots. As he listened to Jaspar and the plumbers upstairs, his left leg jigged uncontrollably. He bit his bottom lip in nervous anticipation, listening as he followed the plodding steps across the ceiling to the front door, then heard it thud close behind them. Joe's heart was pounding in his chest. He was sweating all over. He planned to storm out, right passed gawking Caspar and out the door. Maybe he'd stay in a hotel for the night, really make Caspar worry, make sure he knew he'd completely crossed the line. After the earlier humiliation, he could do with a free bar and room service and a hot tub. _Yeah, that sounds good._

Then he remembered the picture - that damn picture of him with his legs in the air and his finger up his arse, the bliss on his closed eyes and poked out tongue. Caspar would surely delete it now he'd had his little laugh. Before he could get up for his dramatic exit, he heard Caspar on the stairs. Then he was in the room, just staring silently at Joe. Joe met his eyes with purpose, his brow furrowed. Then he stood up, but as he made for the door Caspar said something that hit him like a tonne of bricks.

"Uh, clothes off, Joe."

Surely he wasn't serious? Joe just laughed. He had to laugh it off. If he laughed enough maybe this would just peter out.

"No, Caspar." He chuckled. "You've had your fun."

He'd tried to sound resolute, but he could hear himself faltering on _fun_. Caspar had a big smile on his face. Even now it was a smile that disarmed Joe. He felt his shoulders slump.

"Caspar - seriously. Delete that picture and we'll just pretend what just happened, didn't happen." Still smiling and silence. "Caspar! Come on..."

"Joooeeeeeee...I've not even started with my fun," Caspar said.

"I still have so much I want to do!"

"Caspar!"

"Get your clothes off!" Caspar shouted.

It wasn't a proper shout. It was a shout from the shallow of his throat, one that sounded louder than it was. Joe knew Caspar would never actually shout at him. And, in a way, he didn't need to. He had all the leverage in the world. Joe still had to try and stop this. Had to put up a fight. But he knew he was like a car running endlessly against a block of solid steel - wheels skidding, smoke rising, engine whirring - but making no real impact. Just like the car would eventually use its petrol and sputter out, Joe too would _have_ to give up.

The picture flashed through his mind again. The flexing abs. The socks. The tongue. The blurred hand. The flushed cheeks. He imagined it on twitter - _50 retweets, 100 retweets, 500 retweets._ The gossip magazines would splash a black block here or there to censor the sensitive bits, but everyone would be able to find the true version in a second. Joe let his jacket and hoody drop to the floor in one motion. As he did, Caspar threw his head back and laughed. He knew he'd won. Joe was broken.

As he unthreaded his belt, pulled his jeans down, pulled off his jumper, Caspar was taking photos. Joe flinched with every _snap snap snap._ What were these for? Nothing incriminating about rolling off some jeans or slipping out of a jumper. Maybe he wants them for a personal collection? Now Joe was stood in just his white Calvins. Even his socks were gone, and he curled and uncurled his toes as the cold took them like the rest of him. Though he knew what to do next, he had the dignity to wait for it to be asked of him.

"Boxers off, Joe. Boxers off."

Joe did as he was told in one rushed motion and his cock and balls swung out. Joe was a grower, he knew, and even though Caspar had seen his dick flaccid before, he now felt self-conscious about its size. As Caspar looked him up and down, Joe realised he didn't know what to do with his hands. He let them hang awkwardly at his sides. Joe's skin seemed to burn as Caspar let his eyes fall everywhere. Joe watched them run over his pecs, down his smooth stomach. They stopped for a long time on his penis, then seemed to miss his legs entirely.

"Why don't you do a little spin for me?"

Joe complied, with a token sigh. The sighs were involuntary at this point.

"Slower," Caspar said. "Slower...slower...slower."

He was spinning so slow now - feeling Caspar's eyes on his pert ass the entire time - that it seemed like an age before he was back facing Caspar. When Caspar's eyes came up to meet his own, Joe lowered his head impulsively to the floor.

"Hmmm," said Caspar. Joe looked at him, he was rubbing his chin like some sort of scientist. "I think we'll take some more photos."

"CASP - "

"Joe," Caspar interrupted quietly. "Are we really going to have this _every time_ I ask you to do something? You have to do what I say. Or else. So just listen to me and we can get on with it!"

Joe knew he was right. This situation was hopeless. So he listened to Caspar's instructions as best he could. First, he was on the bed on all fours, facing away. "Arch your back more, like you're trying to look sexy." He wasn't trying to look sexy, but he knew what Caspar meant. Like a porn star. He arched his back down so his ass was up high and his head was on the mattress. Now he had to wiggle it 'like he wanted to be fucked.' Then he was parting his ass cheeks, revealing his hole yet again, spreading his legs so Caspar could get his face in shot. "Good," he was told. "Good!" While Joe was there, helpless, Caspar darted about the room like a professional photographer, collecting angles. Then Joe had to flip over, lift up his legs and hold his ankles. He had to look right at the camera through his raised legs. Joe hated that his cock was stirring. By the time he was told to touch himself, it was hard and waiting for him.

"Wank very slowly for me...good boy!" Caspar said. He liked that phrase, though he seemed to have stumbled across it. "Good boy! Such a good boy! Yes, very slowly. Okay, now can you get your foot in your mouth?"

"What?" Joe asked quietly.

Caspar laughed. "Like, it would be funny to see you sucking your toes."

Joe knew Caspar knew he could do it. So without thinking too much about it, he lifted his foot up and forced his toes past his lips. The salt of sweat hit his tongue straight away, and his spine ached slightly. Now Joe had to suck them - "Suck them like a cock." - and he did, slowly moving his head up and down all his toes at once. All the while he was shaking, burning hot, dying from the embarrassment of being someone's personal plaything.

"Okay, you can stop that," Caspar said, chuckling.

Joe was relieved. He sat, anger and frustration bubbling inside him, but completely helpless. Caspar must have taken forty or fifty photographs now. He felt like a piece of meat.

"Okay, you can get on all fours again now. Yeah, that's good. Make your back go like last time, Joe. Nice, and like, rub your ass hole a bit like you really want something inside you - Nice!"

Joe's crack was sweaty beneath his fingers. His cock was throbbing like it had a pulse of its own and his balls were so tight he thought they'd disappear. He couldn't understand it. It was like his body was betraying him. Could part of him be liking this? As Joe had turned around, he had noticed Caspar's jeans bulging at the crotch, a thick, pole shaped lump running along to the top of his thigh. He was rock hard. He was _loving_ this. Then it hit him: if Caspar could force Joe in to these positions, take pictures of him sucking his toes, wanking himself off, rubbing his ass hole, wiggling like a porn star. He could make him do anything. _Anything._ He wondered where he would draw the line, when he'd say enough was enough and face the whirlwind of internet infamy. As Caspar said 'Okay, Joe, get off the bed now and get on your knees', he realised he was about to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All feedback is greatly appreciated. Part 3 is on it's way! Let me know what you'd like to see in future instalments.


	3. Joe's First BJ

Joe did as he was told and dropped to his knees. He was now eye level with Caspar's terrific bulge. Caspar threw his phone on the bed, where it bounced safely, and begun fumbling with the buttons on his jeans. Joe hung is head, looked at the floor, looked at Caspar's trainers. He knew what Caspar wanted. He couldn't pretend he hadn't thought about it, but not like this; not blackmailed, not stripped and humiliated and degraded. There was a great big refusal sitting somewhere inside him, rumbling in his stomach, and he wondered if it would rise up and take him over.

Caspar rolled his jeans down his thighs, kicked off his trainers and threw it all in a pile in the corner of the room. His legs were big - at least compared to Joe's, and almost as smooth. Now Joe felt a hand running through his hair. It was almost soothing, almost nice, until Caspar clamped it into a fist and pulled Joe in to his crotch. Joe hadn't seen what boxers he was wearing, except that they were black and did nothing to disguise his hanging balls and thick cock. Now his face was in them, being moved forcibly back and forth across the balls like he was a rag doll. This didn't last long and Caspar, suddenly overcome with lust, pulled the boxers down and let his penis flop out. It hit Joe in the face on the up-swing. _Ugh_.

Sitting back, Joe stared at naked Caspar. Well, naked save for his navy blue Adidas shirt. Caspar was smiling, with his hands behind his back. Showing off, Joe thought.

"Joe," he said. "I've always thought you were really hot for ages."

Joe just stared up at him with a sulky face. Was that supposed to make him feel better? He was surprised at first by all of this - he had assumed Caspar was straight - but now it was obvious he wasn't, and obvious he had 'a thing' for Joe. To put it mildly.

"Caspar," Joe said quietly, then paused. He was sweaty, exhausted from following strenuous commands. He just wanted this to end. He flicked his eyes up and down the boy before him. "Can we please stop this?"

Caspar took his shirt off and added it to the pile, then his socks. Joe had to admit, Caspar was like some kind of Adonis. His muscles flexed all over at the slightest movement and his cock was big, much bigger than Joe's. It curved up perfectly, light coloured, foreskin rolled back slightly over a smooth, symmetrical head.

"Come here and kiss my feet a bit," Caspar said.

Joe bit his tongue. There was really no end to the humiliation. With the amount of material Caspar had procured, he could get Joe to do anything he wanted. And now, he was to kiss Caspar's feet before he sucked his cock. Joe shuffled over, bent as low as possible, and pressed his lips mutely on the arch of Caspar's left foot, then his right foot. As he did it, he heard Caspar chuckling.

"That's right, good boy again!" - _those words_ , those two words made Joe's stomach cramp and his heart jump every time - "keep kissing."

Joe did the best he could not to think about what he was doing, about the symbolism of a skinny boy like him kissing the feet of his larger, more muscly friend. He wouldn't let his head add to the degradation of it all. He planted a few more kisses here and there, one near the ankle, then on the toes of each foot, until Caspar told him to stop.

Joe was sat back on his heels again when Caspar wrapped his hand round the back of his head, threaded his fingers in his hair, and pulled him inwards. For a second Joe resisted, his lips pursed, his eyes fixed on Caspar's cock as it came closer and closer. Then he gave in, and felt Caspar's bellend pressing on his lips.

"Suck it really good, Joe," he said. "I don't want to feel teeth or anything."

Resolving to get it over with as quickly as possible, Joe parted his lips and let Caspar's cock slip in slowly, inch by inch. It hurt Joe's jaw to accommodate his girthy cock, but he did it like the 'good boy' he was. Caspar eased him in to it gently, and he was thankful for that. First, he rocked his hips slowly so that two or three inches were sliding in and out, in and out, in and out. Joe kept his head still, his neck rigid, his eyes closed. Soon, however, that was no good for Caspar, and he croaked between deep breaths: "I'm doing all the work!" Caspar stopped his slow humping, forcing Joe to begin bobbing his head up and down.

"Open your eyes Joe," Caspar said, tapping his cheek lightly with his hand. "Look up at me."

Joe did as he was told. There was really no greater humiliation. It felt like a porn, only he was living it, and he was the one being used and abused. As they locked eyes, Caspar was biting his bottom lip mildly, rolling his head about. Joe was frowning. He was angry. He was frustrated. And he made sure Caspar knew it.

A few minutes of this. Caspar had closed his eyes and Joe took this as a sign he could do the same. Joe found himself being actually thankful that Caspar was treating him with some degree of respect. How could he be thankful? This was how far he had slipped already. He was naked on his knees, being forced to suck a cock, being told intermittently how he was a 'good boy' and 'a great cock sucker', but he was thankful he wasn't being choked or face-fucked. Had he settled in to his role as Caspar's slave too easily?

His neck was beginning to ache, so he was again thankful when Caspar pulled his cock out and begun stroking it himself. Joe looked up at him again. His eyes were clamped shut, wrinkled lids flitting slightly, a sheen of sweat on his brow, his cheeks bright red. It suddenly occurred to Joe he had never tasted cum.

Caspar was moaning and sighing, his hand a blur on his cock.

"Open...ugh. Open your m-mouth Joe."

 _No._ Joe kept his mouth firmly shut. This would be his act of defiance. Caspar looked down angrily, flustered, his eyebrows contorted in to a sharp V. He didn't stop stroking himself but shouted: "JOE!". The smaller boy jumped, but turned his head away. He was shaking all over now, but was so pleased that he was refusing Caspar this final treat. As Caspar came, his spurts hit Joe's cheek, his shoulder, the floor in front of him. One shot straight past and landed on Joe's bed. Caspar was heaving and sighing deeply as the last drops rolled from his slit and drooped down towards the floor.

Joe stood up. His cock was flaccid. He puffed out his chest. As he wiped the spunk from his face and torso, he realised he was terrified. When Caspar's exaltation was over, he just stared at Joe with no expression. Then he moved. Joe stepped back, his heart racing. Caspar moved past him and picked up his phone.

"Cas-Caspar wait..." Joe could feel his pulse all over his body. "Caspar I'm sorry!"

Caspar was silent. He tapped a few more times. Then showed Joe his handiwork with an outstretched arm. Caspar had been in to his contact list, selected a name - _Troye Sivan_ \- and sent him three or four of Joe's most compromising nudes.

"Caspar!" Joe felt rage bubbling inside of him. His fists were clenched as he shouted: "YOU FUCKING PRICK!"

Caspar was grinning. "It's too late, Joe."

Joe jumped at Caspar, but the bigger boy threw him on the bed, pinned an arm behind his back, and struggled with him. Joe was flailing, kicking his legs, shouting obscenities. Caspar just stayed calm.

"Joe, Troye is going to love those picture."

Joe's heart sunk. He stopped his fighting and just lay motionless on the bed. He imagined the little South-African heart throb seeing a message from Caspar. Smiling. Opening it up and staring, wide-eyed, at the treasure trove he had been gifted. There was no doubt Troye fancied Joe. How could he not? As he led face down on the bed, he felt Caspar reach down with his spare hand and cup his right butt cheek. He squeezed it as he spoke. Kneaded it like dough.

"Troye is going to help me punish you for your little mishap just now."

"Caspar, please don't get anyone else involved."

Caspar smacked his ass cheek lightly. Joe jolted.

"I wouldn't have had to," Caspar said. "If you'd have done as you were told. Now I'm going to let go of you, and you're going to sit up and listen to me. Got it?"

Joe nodded.

"Joe?"

"Yes. Got it."

Caspar sat back on the bed, let Joe pull himself up onto his round buttocks. They were sat so close Joe could feel Caspar's thigh hair on his own smooth leg.

"Let me explain to you how this is going to work," said Caspar. Joe stared at him. Silent. Smouldering. "I'm going to ring Troye. I'm going to tell him - _hmmmm_ \- I'm going to tell him we've been secretly seeing each other for a few months. He'll believe that." Caspar laughed. "Anyone would believe that! I'm going to tell him you _really, really_ want me to play BDSM with you. And that you want another boy involved." Joe just sat still, listening. "Before he gets here. I'm going to tie you naked to your bed posts. And then," Caspar rubbed his hands together like some evil scientist. "I'm going to let Troye call the shots. He's really kinky Joe. You're going to love it!"

Joe watched as Caspar bent down and scooped up some cum with his finger. Caspar offered it silently to Joe. Joe just stared at the little pearly bulb of spunk. He imagined what Caspar and Troye would do to him. The humiliations two brains could come up with. He wanted to soften his punishment as much as possible. Silently, Joe opened his mouth, took Caspar's finger, and sucked it clean. 

"Good boy, Joe. Good boy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment if you enjoyed! Part 4 coming sooooooooon.


	4. New Feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! Next few parts will be more regular. This chapter is fluffier. More hardcore stuff to come.

Joe was led on the bed, his hands tied up to the bedposts, nothing but the same white Calvins on. "Put these back on," Caspar had said. He was told Troye would want something to take off. It was all 'part of the fun'. Joe had obliged without a word, then led down. Caspar used his belt - and one of Joe's - to tie his hands, and now here he lay. Caspar stood at the foot of the bed admiring his handy work, a broad smile on his face, his hands clutching Joe's toes. As he spoke, he rubbed Joe's soles with his thumbs slowly, tenderly. Joe ignored the tickling sensation, he wouldn't give Caspar the satisfaction of complaining.

"So, Joe, I think Troye's really going to have fun with you," Caspar said, chuckling. "He's pretty, yknow, _experienced_." Caspar winked. "Boys are his thing!"

Joe bit his tongue, shut his eyes, and sighed. He could see no way out of this. He couldn't visualise a way to change Caspar's mind. Only five - maybe ten - minutes had passed since Caspar had cum, since he'd made Joe lick it off his finger like a bitch, but he was still already hard again in his jeans. Joe was under no illusion: Caspar Lee and Troye Sivan were both going to be using him soon.

Rage boiled inside him suddenly and he found himself struggling hard against his restraints, the bed creaking and shaking, the mattress bouncing underneath him. Then, he imagined his abs tensing and untensing beautifully with every movement. He knew Caspar would be getting off on that, so he stopped and tried to relax.

"Hmmm, less of that please Joe!" Caspar said. "You have to be a really good boy for Troye. I don't want you to let me down, okay?"

Silence. The air was still.

"Okay, Joe?"

"Yes," Joe snapped. "Okay, yes."

"Yes, _sir_."

He couldn't be serious? He was to call him sir now? The humiliation just unfolded with each passing second. A few seconds passed. Finally, Joe decided Caspar was serious. Deadly serious.

"Yes, sir," he muttered quietly.

Caspar jumped on the spot, then moved to the side of the bed and ruffled Joe's hair like he was a little kid.

"Good boy!"

This was it. Caspar left the room. Joe heard his footsteps thudding up the stairs. He was so clumsy and heavy footed. Joe remembered all the times Caspar had knocked something over with his ungainly limbs. A smile close to broke on his face, before the crushing embarrassment came rushing back. _Oh god,_ he thought. How was he to get out of this? Joe heard Caspar's flat footsteps on the ceiling. Then he heard the latch click, the door open, deep voices. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but he knew it was Troye and Caspar joking. Probably about what they were about to do.

Soon, Caspar was downstairs again. Behind him, little Troye still wrapped in a green coat with a fluffy hood. For a second, Joe studied him, running his eyes up and down, up and down. There was no doubting Troye was beautiful. He was almost classically beautiful; the straight of his jaw, like an arrow to the floor and his big, pearly eyes. He was also one of the only people Joe knew that was as tiny as he was. Little comfort, but it beat being dominated by muscly Caspar.

Joe and Troye locked eyes. They stared at each other. Though Joe was led in his tight white boxers, with Troye's eyes rolling all over his body he already felt nude. Joe's cheeks were hot with embarrassment. He wanted to reach down, cover his bulge with his hands and run. But he was helpless. Troye rolled his eyes and threw back his head. He turned to Caspar.

"Oh my god," he said. "So hot. Oh my god."

Caspar just nodded silently with a smile then left the room hurriedly.

Now Troye and Joe were alone. Troye unzipped his coat and let it fall to the floor. He was in just tight black jeans and t-shirt now, and came to sit on the bed next to tied up Joe. Joe looked away. He wanted more than anything for this moment to end. He felt hot all over. He felt pathetic. Then he felt Troye's hands, icy from the outside air, run over his chest. Joe jolted.

"Joe this is really weird, I know," Troye started, moving a hand slowly over Joe's bumpy abs. "Caspar's, like, he's told me everything you like. He's filled me in completely."

Joe closed his eyes. He wanted to scream out, tell Troye everything. But he knew it would be a one-way ticket to internet exposure. Once again, the pictures flashed through his mind. His ass cheeks wide open, legs in the air...

Troye was still talking, but Joe had zoned out. He only began to focus again when Caspar re-entered the room. He begun setting up a tripod by the bed.

"Caspar!" Joe shouted.

Troye pulled his hand back, looked at the tripod, then cocked his head like a confused dog. Caspar was staring angrily at Joe.

"Hey, Cas," Troye said. "I don't think we should film it if, yknow, Joe isn't in to it."

Caspar's brow was frozen in an angry V. Joe stared at him anyway. He didn't want any more filming to be done. _Got to use Troye to stop him._

"That would be weird, Caspar," Troye asserted.

Caspar eased up and smiled. "No, no you're right," he said. "My bad!" He disassembled the tripod. "Troye, why don't you go in to my room and get your stuff sorted out."

Troye nodded and left. Now the air was silent and still again. Caspar stared blankly at Joe, who still stared right back. Caspar slowly came to sit on the bed where Troye had been. Joe wanted to look away. Every fibre of his body said this had been a bad mistake. But he'd won, hadn't he?

Suddenly, Caspar darted forward and grabbed Joe's bulge through his boxers. Joe let out a small cry and jolted, pulling his legs as close together as possible. The pain shot through him all at once, the dull ache of a punch in the balls.

"If you don't think you're going to pay for that," Caspar said. "You're pretty silly, Sugg. Any more funny business, any at all," he held up his phone, "these go live. Understand?"

Joe nodded. He felt sick as Caspar let him go. He was breathing heavily. Then Troye was back and Caspar changed to sunny and happy again. For a while, the two boys busied about the room like worker bees. Troye had brought with him a big black hold-all, and he rummaged about in it for a while. Caspar was back and forth. Joe was alone with his thoughts, but all he could think about was what was to happen any moment. It hung over him like a cartoon anvil about to drop any moment. Then Caspar spoke, breaking the eerie silence.

"Right, Joe. I'll leave you to it."

With one last glance at Joe's cock, he left the room. _So that's why he wanted to film!_ Troye obviously wasn't comfortable with the idea of a threesome just yet.

Now it was just Joe and Troye. Joe was too flushed and reduced to look Troye directly in the eyes. Instead he looked anywhere else. In the mirror he could see his messy hair, and the smooth bottoms of his feet where he lay almost spread eagle on the bed. Troye eyed him hungrily, biting his lip, licking his lips. The butterflies in Joe's tummy were so intense he felt he might be sick. Then Troye's hands were all over him. He ran his palms up the inside of his hairless thighs, stopping just short of his bulge, then moved up over his abs, over his chest. As he was feeling up his prize, his pinky brushed Joe's exposed armpit and he jolted suddenly again. Troye reached out fast and grabbed Joe's face, squashing his cheeks together. He pulled his head to look at him. Joe met Troye's swimming blue-grey eyes.

"Caspar said you were in to pretty much anything," he said. Joe was silent. "Like, that's cool. I'm pretty kinky when I wanna be."

He chuckled, let go of Joe's face, and lent in to Joe's armpit. Joe closed his eyes tight shut. He was so ticklish he felt like he was covered in wriggly worms. Just Troye being a breath away from his exposed arm pit was enough to make him crazy. Then he felt Troye's mouth open and his tongue come out. One long lick up Joe's spread open pit. Joe made a little whimpering noise. Then Troye was kissing and sniffing and licking and sucking. Joe struggled hard against his bindings but couldn't escape. He writhed and squealed and laughed. His little toes curled and uncurled uncontrollably. The bed creaked from his tossing and turning.

Then Troye pulled away, wiped his mouth, and smiled. His pointy teeth were perfectly white. Joe was breathing heavy, ragged breaths, but Troye moved swiftly in and planted a kiss on his lips. Joe was strangely shocked. Troye didn't pull away, and neither did Joe. It was oddly comforting. He felt Troye's warm breath on his face. As Troye came in again, Joe closed his eyes and just focused on the lips. For a second he lay static, mouth unmoving as Troye planted little open mouthed kisses. Then he felt Troye's tongue come out, and Joe opened his lips to take him. Their lips locked, mouths opening and closing, Joe feeling Troye's heat as the butterflies in his body dissipated. Joe felt his boxers stirring. He wanted to reach out and take Troye's hair in his hands, pull him in even closer. For what felt like an age they moved fluidly together, heads rocking back and forth, Joe's neck arching in time with Troye's kissing. Then Troye nibbled lightly Joe's bottom lip, and pulled away.

Joe's breathing was heavy but steady. He stared wide-eyed at smiling Troye still leaning over him. Joe gulped. He was hot, flustered, sweaty. But, he thought, in a good way? He looked down his body. His cock was rock hard in his Calvins. Troye got off the bed and walked over to the black hold-all on the floor. Troye cleared his throat.

"Uhm," he said, crouched on the floor, facing away. "Uh, yeah. Anyway..."

Joe stared at the back of his neck. He wanted inexplicably to be kissing it.


	5. Sivan's Slut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unadulterated smut.

Joe lay motionless on the bed, eyeing the dark spot of precum on his white Calvins. All the time Troye had been rummaging in his black bag, he'd watched it spreading slowly through the material like a drop of dirty water on tissue paper. It reminded him that he'd enjoyed the kiss more than anything.

Troye came back to the bed. The hot moment seemed to have past, and now he stood examining him coldly, like a doctor may examine a patient. As Troye mounted the bed, spreading his thin, jeaned legs either side of Joe's, Joe noticed for the first time what was in his hand. His heart skipped a beat and his stomach lurched. A silver, bullet-shaped dildo. Troye whirled it slowly between two fingers as he looked down hungrily at his captive.

Before Joe could protest, Troye's fingers were beneath the waistline of his boxers and he was pulling them roughly down with one hand. They snapped at him briefly, before Troye yanked them. Joe heard the fabric stretching as they came down to his knees, his hard cock flopping out on to his stomach and his tight balls with it. Troye licked his lips as he studied the naked boy in front of him. Joe's face was red again. He thought the most embarrassing thing of all was that he was harder than ever in light of what was being done to him.

"Lift up your legs," said Troye, jumping back off the bed and on to the floor. "Let's get those boxers off."

Joe felt that familiar sinking feeling. The feeling of being told what to do like a dog, and being unable to protest.

"Troye," he said dryly, then stopped.

What could he say? He could tell him everything and have his life ruined. Or he could shut up and take it. Those seemed to be the only two options. Silently, he lifted his legs up, closed together. He watched his bare feet rising in to the air and felt, once again, his ass cheeks parting slowly.

Troye leaned forward and pulled the boxers off over Joe's feet. Then he climbed back on to the bed, grabbed Joe's ankles, and pulled the legs open like a big pair of scissors. Joe didn't fight. He let his limp legs open up, felt his cheeks stretching open, felt Troye's eyes on his exposed little hole. He eyed it like a kid in a sweet shop.

Joe didn't even move when he felt Troye's fingers tickling his hole, pushing slightly at it. Testing it, he thought. Joe stared blankly up at the ceiling as he was being played with like Troye's little toy. He closed his eyes, but opened them abruptly when Troye said:

"Aww, Joe, you're _so, so_ tight." He held up the bullet-shaped dildo. "That's why we're starting off small. That okay, Joseph?"

He'd added the last bit smugly. Joe assumed Caspar had told him to expect a reply. He hated this! It was one thing to be enslaved like this, to be used and abused, to be expected to suck cum off of Caspar's finger when he was told to, do be expected to allow Troye to insert god-knows-what in to him, but did he have to pretend to enjoy it?

Joe stared at Troye. "Yes," he said, defeated. "Yes that's okay."

His legs were beginning to ache and wane, but Troye grabbed his ankles again and hoisted them up to their original position. Then, he moved his hands down to rub Joe's balls gently. Joe didn't budge. He didn't budge as his balls were massaged, and didn't budge as Troye's soft hand moved to grip his shaft and begun moving very, very slowly up and down, up and down, up and down. Joe closed his eyes and bit his lip, even struggled mildly against his risk bonds, as the butterflies in his stomach came back and goose bumps erupted all over him. When, after maybe minutes, Troye stopped, Joe was panting slightly, nipples hard, balls hugging his cock. A drop of precum broke on his bell end and dribbled over his taut foreskin. Troye caught it on his thumb, brought it up to his face, and went to lick it. Joe watched as his tongue came out and then stopped. Troye flicked his eyes to Joe.

"Actually," he said, leaning over and holding out his thumb. "There you go, Joe."

Joe looked at the precum and turned his face away.

"Joe!" snapped Troye. "Caspar said you liked to pretend not to enjoy this stuff." He chuckled. "But we have a lot to do, so lick it."

Joe turned back to Troye, looked at the pre cum again, looked pat his at his aching legs still high in the air and thought about the silver dildo, about the big hold-all. This wasn't the worse thing he was going to have to do. He let his tongue slink slowly from his mouth, and Troye wiped the precum on it.

"Good bitch," said Troye.

Joe's legs were beginning to hurt again from their upright position, and they were trembling and he was wincing. Troye saw this, and slowly pushed his legs back down on the bed.

"Keep them open, Joe," he said, patting Joe's thigh. "But you don't have to hold them up any more if it's hurting you."

Joe was thankful for this. His legs had become numb from the pain of holding them in that same position, but now, with his knees bent, his legs spread open, and his feet flat on the bed, he was beginning to feel them again. Troye was back in front of him now, knelt on the bed between his legs, staring at Joe's ass hole with the bullet-shaped dildo in his hand.

"You ready, Joe?"

He wanted to say 'No.' He was not ready to have that little silver bullet shoved up his ass, to be used by Troye like a sex toy. He wasn't ready for the humiliation of feeling it pressing his prostate, of his throbbing cock, of his spread open legs and the moaning he would be unable to suppress. But he said, quietly, 'Yes."

Troye just smiled, and within seconds Joe felt the dildo prodding his hole. He jolted at first and wanted to slam shut his legs, but knew better. Instead he closed his eyes as the cold metal thing rubbed against his entrance.

Then he felt wetness - it was Troye's spit covered fingers circling his ass hole, priming him so that, when Troye eventually pushed the dildo against his hole, the pointed tip slid in easily. Joe felt it inside him, thicker than a finger, and scrunched his face as it moved inside inch by slow inch.

Troye grabbed Joe's ankles and hoisted his legs back in to the air. He must have changed his mind. Perhaps he preferred seeing Joe like this - he knew he looked silly, almost pathetic, and definitely dominated. Joe looked past Troye and caught himself in the mirror. The dildo was left alone, now, less than an inch still out, the rest was inside him.

Troye reached down with one hand and pressed a button on the dildo. To Joe's shock, it begun vibrating, fast and hard. Joe's legs begin to shake in Troye's hands. His wrists shook futilely against their straps. His asshole tickled and inside of him was a deep throbbing that went up past his waist and into his stomach. He screwed his eyes shut tight, bit his lip as sweat broke on his brow. His cock begun moving involuntarily up and down, up and down, like it was asking to be touched and played with. Then, to his horror, he moaned. It was a deep, full moan, and Troye had to have heard it. The ultimate humiliation.

When Joe opened his eyes he realised his little toes were curled tight with pleasure. Troye obviously liked this, because he leant over left and enveloped Joe's big toe with his lips. Joe was too busy shaking from the deep feeling of the dildo to care about the tickling of Troye's tongue in between his toes. He just watched as Troye took each of his toes in to his mouth, sucking and licking.

When Troye had finished, he let go of Joe's ankles and they fell to the bed. Joe was exhausted. Troye took hold of the dildo, thumbed it off, then pulled it slowly out. Ugh, Joe moaned again as he felt it fall from his ass. Troye threw it back in to the black hold-all and jumped off the bed. Joe watched him, still panting, still glistening all over with sweat, as he bent down and begun rummaging again.

There was more. Joe threw is heavy head back on the bed as his breathing begun to steady again. He felt his ass hole stinging slightly, but most of all he felt hot churning in his chest and the urge, more than anything, to cum. His balls were so tight he thought they might disappear and the precum coming from his cock had left a sticky trail near his belly button.  
Troye turned back round with a much larger, much thicker dildo, a flesh coloured, plastic thing that wobbled back and forth in his hand. Joe stared at it, unblinking. _Oh god._  
  
"That little one was just, like, starters," Troye said, smiling. Joe caught his perfect teeth.

Then Troye was on the bed again. _Oh god. Oh god. Oh god._ Joe watched the dildo, at least as girthy as Caspar's cock, swinging from side to side as Troye steadied himself on the bouncing bed. He thought about crying out, pleading, anything. Then he remembered Caspar's words: "Any funny business, any at all...these go live." Troye asked him again to raise his legs high, and with the threat still ringing in his head, he did so.

His ass was sweaty, from anticipation, from horniness, from the actual heat of holding his legs in place for so long. With the help of more Sivan spit the tip of the dildo breached Joe easily. Then, as Troye eased it in slowly, Joe felt its true thickness stretching his ass. It stung, then it ached as it edged deeper and deeper. Joe was moaning loud, he couldn't help it, he couldn't physically keep it in. All he could focus on was how much the dildo was hurting his little hole.

As the dildo hit a new, deeper place, Joe let out an "Ugh, fuck," under his breath. Troye just smiled. Joe felt the warmth deep inside his ass, felt it exploding in his stomach as Troye wiggled the dildo about. It was Joe's prostate. The G-Spot.

More moaning, wiggling and heat and pleasure that seemed to go on for a lifetime and completely wrecked Joe. He struggled against his bonds harder than ever, not so that he might escape and stop the torture, but that he might rip them off and jerk his cock raw. He needed, more than anything, to touch himself.

Then it stopped. Once again Joe was panting rhythmically, but this time, as Troye jumped off the bed again and his legs came down to the mattress, he was mewling in frustration. Joe's legs were down but still wide open; he couldn't close them with the dildo still deep inside him.

Troye was in the middle of the room, not staring at Joe, but staring down as he undid his own flies and rolled his jeans smoothly down his legs. Joe caught the sight; Troye's legs were smooth, even less hairy than his own. As Troye took his shirt off, he noticed slight baby fat, but otherwise a perfect, slender, toned body, nipples pert. As Troye reached down to the waist band of his tight black boxers, he turned around, and as they came slowly down they revealed his smooth, pert butt cheeks, like perfect buns. Then he turned back round, naked apart from his socks, grinning sinisterly. Sinisterly, Joe thought, but cutely.

Troye's cock was thinner than Joe's or Capar's, but shaved entirely so that he looked like a twinky porn star. In seconds he was upon Joe, knees either side of his face, and the bedding was rocking from the jump. Troye's cock brushed Joe's nose and he threw his head back instinctively. Troye grabbed a big tuft of Joe's hair, and pulled it back so he was forced to look at him. Their eyes locked again. Joe scrunched his face up, half in pain, half in humiliation.

"I'm going to cum," Troye said. "I'm going to cum right in your mouth, Joseph Sugg."  
  
Joe's heart sunk. Troye continued: "And when I'm done, you're going to thank me for it. Understand?"  
  
Joe nodded reluctantly. He felt Troye's smooth balls on his chin.

"Say 'yes sir' if you understand."

"Yes sir."  
  
"Good little bitch," Troye said, slapping Joe's cheek gently.

Without hesitation, Troye threw his head back, gripped his cock, and begun masturbating. He rubbed his shaft so quickly his hand was a blur to Joe, who had to move back despite his hair in Troye's free hand to save himself getting hit by the heart throbs pumping fist.

"Li-lick my balls," Troye panted, pulling Joe in to his crotch.

Joe complied reluctantly. He poked is tongue out and lapped as little as he could get away with, tasting the salt on the balls. After only a few seconds, Troye ripped Joe's head back hard again. Joe whimpered slightly.

"Open- ugh- open your mouth," Troye said.

Caspar's threats ran threw his mind. All the pictures, all the humiliation, all the possible embarrassment and punishment and torment that would come to him if he refused, if Troye reported back to Caspar that he'd not been a 'good little bitch.' He opened his mouth a tiny amount, the tiniest amount he could get away with.

Troye looked down. "Tongue out," he sighed.

Joe wanted to curl up into a little ball, but instead he stuck his tongue out. He closed his eyes, wished for it all to end. Now he lay, tied to his bedposts, absolutely naked, being straddled by Troye Sivan, feeling his balls bouncing on his chin, the smell of sweat and sex in his nostrils.

"Look - look at me," Troye said, moaning. "Look at me."

Joe forced himself to do it, and locked eyes with Troye. Then, like Joe's pretty eyes had been the final spark, Troye let out a deep moan, pushed his cock down, and shot. His cum hit the roof of Joe's mouth. Joe shut his eyes and forced his jaw to stay in place, forced his tongue to stay out like a hungry puppy. The second shot vanished in to his throat. The third landed on his open tongue, and for the first time he tasted the tanginess and the salt and felt the warmth of Troye's thick cum. He pulled his tongue in, completely grossed out, and the final shot hit his teeth and spilled down his chin.

Troye was hunched over, panting, arm on the bedpost behind Joe. With one hand, he absently rubbed his cock on Joe's lips. Joe screwed his face up tighter than ever as he felt the wet and the stickiness glide over his lips, his chin, his cheeks.

"What - what do you say," Troye said between sighs.

"Thank you," Joe muttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it. Next part, entitled 'Tutu', coming soon. It involves some embarrassing dress up.


	6. An Aside: Now Sugg’s A Belieber

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fast forward a few days, or weeks, or was it months? Joe had lost track of time. 
> 
> Anyway, he gets a visit from a super celeb.

The club was dark and almost dingy. If it weren’t for the neon light strips around the bar and the plush red sofas, one could be forgiven for thinking it was some sort of weird dungeon. Conor Maynard took a sip of his gin and scrunched up his face; it was too strong. The music was too loud, too, but it and the drink served as distraction from the fact he was incredibly nervous. His leg was bouncing. Beside him was someone he didn’t know too well, a guy with a beard, talking to someone else he didn’t know too well, a girl in a tight silver dress. The guy’s girlfriend, maybe? He hadn’t been listening when Jack introduced him. _Where is Jack?_

Conor swivelled in his squishy seat, looked to the bar, to the door, to the green fire exit sign that was the only other light in the place. Then his heart skipped a beat. A throng of people in a thousand dollar suits had just entered, and in the midst of them was him. Not his brother, but the boy he was meeting. Conor darted his head back round and took a deep breath.

“Hey, hey,” he shouted over the music, tapping the kid next to him on the leg. “He’s here, go…go get a drink or something mate.”

The boy and the girl looked at him, and for a second Conor thought they’d tell him to fuck off. But then they left. He took another deep breath and stopped his knee from bouncing. He’d be on him any moment. _Breathe, Conor, breathe. Fuck, where is Jack?_ _All of this would be easier with him sat next to me._ He was probably off chatting up some girl.

“Hey!” Justin shouted over the music.

Conor looked up at him. He felt that his eyes were wide and mouth open. “Uhh, hey, hey,” he said, too quietly to be heard.

“Hey man, the music’s waaay too loud, yknow? Come with me!”

Justin darted off across the club to the fire exit and Conor followed. Justin held the door open for him, and when it closed with a thud the music sounded tinny and distant. The corridor they stood in was cold and empty, with peeling white paint on the walls. They were in some old stairwell.

“Justin, it’s…well it’s an honour really,” Conor said, chuckling.

Justin laughed. “Don’t sweat it, dude.”

“I’m, like, a massive fan honestly.”

“Yeah, and your stuff is really cool, bro. I checked you out on youtube before I left the hotel.”

This was it. This was the moment that would make or break him. Conor went in to his pocket for his phone, but Justin reached down and stopped him.

“Hey man, two things,” he said matter-of-factly. “One, it’s way important no one knows about this, yeah? And two, are you sure you wanna do this?”

Conor hesitated. His mouth was dry and he could feel the sweat on his brow despite the cold of the corridor they were in. Slowly, he reached in to his pocket and took out his phone. Behind the lock screen were the pictures. Caspar’s pictures. Conor gulped as he handed the phone to Justin. He flipped through them wide-eyed.

“Yeah dog, yeah! These are great. I’ve seen this kid on the web. Knew he’d have a nice dick and ass!” He chuckled. “You gotta send me these man.”

Conor was red-faced, but he nodded as he took the phone back and put it in his pocket. What was he doing? Was anything worth this? Then he remembered what was on offer; a feature on Justin’s new album. A feature would propel him to stardom he could only ever dream about right now. Everyone would want to hear Conor Maynard on their tracks.

“Yeah,” Conor said. “Yeah I’ll send you them.”

“Sweet. So this dude is in to like, really freaky shit, yeah? ‘cause I’m in to really freaky shit.”

Conor nodded. “Yeah, like, _everything_. You can do anything you want to him. He’s really cool.”

Justin smiled a big, wide smile. There was hunger in his eyes. Conor thought he could see his cock stirring in his trousers. Then he turned back to the door and waved a hand, gesturing Conor to follow him.

“Drinks are on me man,” he said, and they re-entered the club.

********

Joe woke in Caspar’s bed, like usual. The door had creaked, and light had spilled over the duvet, and voices in the hall had spilled in to his dream. In his dream he had been recording a vlog, uploading it to youtube, smiling and happy. But here, as he looked up to the door to see the commotion, he heard the jingle-jangle of the collar around his neck. It was a tight leather thing, with a dog tag that read: _‘Joe Sugg – Property of Caspar Lee’._ Caspar had fastened it around his neck maybe a week ago. Or was it two? Joe had trouble keeping track of time.

The door opened fully, and someone stood there. He was backlit – definitely a he – so Joe couldn’t see his face.

“Caspar?” Joe croaked in his morning voice.

The person entered and the door closed. For a second the room was pitch black, then a light was switched on. Joe bolted upright. _No way. No. No. No. They’ve gotten someone else involved? When will it end? And it’s…this person?_ It felt almost like a dream to be in the same room as him, but the circumstances sullied it all.

“Joe?” Justin Bieber said.

Joe opened his mouth but nothing came out. He scanned the boy-wonder up and down. His blonde quiff was messy. He had a denim shirt on, a low-cut black t-shirt and a silver necklace hanging down his front. His blue jeans were tight and ripped at the knees. Why was he paying so much attention to what he was wearing? He was sure those clothes wouldn’t stay on for long.

“I…”

“Get up, Joe,” Justin said.

Joe hesitated. He remembered he was still wearing the skimpy pink panties Caspar had made him put on last night. Then he remembered everyone who had seen him naked, and everything he’d done, and realised this was no weirder and no worse. _But it is Justin fucking Bieber!_

“Now!” Justin shouted.

Joe jumped. The shout echoed around the room. Is heart thumping, Joe threw the duvet back to reveal his slight, smooth body and the pink panties that did little to conceal his balls and flaccid cock. His feet touched the cold floor, and as he went to stand up Justin said:

“No. On your hands and knees.” He smiled. “I want you to crawl over to me.”

Joe did as he was told, as always, without even a sigh. He carefully got to his knees, ignoring the cold of the floor now and the ache in his joints from the fucking he got the night before. Slowly, he crawled over to Justin’s feet, and noticed for the first time his white Nike socks.

“Look at me, bro.”

Joe forced himself to look up, and made eye contact with Justin.

“You can take those panties off if you want. You might actually look less stupid naked,” he said, chuckling.

Joe obliged and, staying on his knees and maintaining eye contact like a good boy, tugged the skimpy underwear off his hips, down his thighs, and wriggled them over his feet.

“Open your mouth.”

Joe opened his mouth.

“Stick out your tongue.”

Joe stuck out his tongue. This was a position he was very, very used to these days.

“You’re pretty cute, man,” Justin said as he traced his index finger under Joe’s chin. “You got like, puppy dog eyes, y’know?”

Joe said nothing. He knew he had puppy dog eyes. He also had a puppy dog collar, a puppy dog food bowl, and a puppy dog tail courtesy of his best mate Caspar. He was thankful to not be wearing the tail now. Justin probably didn’t know about the tail.

Justin pursed his lips and spat. It landed on Joe’s tongue and he felt it there. He closed his eyes in shame as he held his position, allowing Justin all the time he wanted to admire his new play thing, on his knees, naked, with his spit on his tongue.

“Look at me,” Justin said quietly. “And swallow.”

Joe opened his eyes, drew is tongue back, closed his mouth, and swallowed. Humiliation and shame had become normal – routine - but this was a new low. It was so cruel. Debasement for the sake of it.

Justin smiled. “You’re a good boy, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” Joe said.

It was the usual response, the response that was now programmed in to him. But Justin seemed unhappy.

“No, no,” he said. “ _Daddy._ You call me daddy, got it?”

Joe nodded. “Yes, s- daddy.”

Justin crouched suddenly, grabbed a bunch of Joe’s hair, and yanked his head back so his neck was exposed and long. Joe scrunched his face, gritted his teeth, and felt the muscles rippling in his jaw.

“I’m going to fuck you, Joe,” Justin whispered. “I’m gonna screw you like you’ve never been screwed.” He yanked his hair again and Joe whimpered. “But first I’m gonna use you for all sorts of weird shit.”

He pushed Joe’s head back and he fell sprawled on the floor. Justin stood over him and Joe dared not move. Inside he lay still in the position he’d fallen in, legs spread, cock beginning to harden, tip beginning to wetten just thinking about what might happen to him. Justin gestured to the bed, and Joe understood. Quickly – he’d learnt to get in to position very quickly for impatient Caspar – he jumped on to all fours on the bed. Then, as Justin began to make his way slowly over to him, he remembered the correct way to present himself and shoved his face down in to the pillow so that his ass was sticking up like a porn star’s.

Justin clambered on to the bed as well, on his knees, and brought his hands down hard on both Joe’s ass cheeks. He flinched at the sudden sting, curled his toes and clenched his jaw, but didn’t let a noise escape his lips.

“You are well trained, bro,” Justin said, laughing. “But I ain’t fucking you yet.”

Joe stayed where he was. He was relieved to hear he’d not be getting fucked just yet. His ass hole had been twitching with anticipation. “You hear me?” Justin said louder. “I ain’t fucking you yet, man.” “Yes, daddy,” Joe said loudly in return. Justin just chuckled.

“Lie on your back,” he said.

Joe complied, and once he was led out the wrong way on the bed, spread eagle, Justin shuffled over to his feet, grabbed his ankles, and lifted his legs way up high so that his feet came over his head. Joe felt the strain in his back slightly, but he was agile enough to be able to take the positioning with ease. Now his feet were almost either side of his head, and looking straight up he could see his cock hanging down towards him and Justin staring down through the gap in his legs, smiling devilishly.

“Before we start,” Justin said. “I think it’s fair you get to cum.”

Joe’s heart sank. He stared at his floppy cock hanging above his face. You didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to work out where this was heading. In this position, Joe’s ass cheeks were stretched open fully, and he knew Justin was staring at his tight hole. Then, the boy-star let a line of spit dribble from his mouth and Joe felt it tickle his hole. Justin massaged it in with two of his fingers. Joe closed his eyes and let the pleasure of the feeling wash over him for a second, then a finger slipped in and he was shocked by the sting. _How is my butt still so tight?_

Justin reached round, with one finger still in Joe’s ass, and took Joe’s semi-hard cock in his hand. His grip was tight, and he found a slow, steady rhythm easily. A musician, Joe thought as he felt the hand go up and down, up and down, up and down. He bit his lip as the sweat broke on his forehead and his cock grew and grew. Within seconds it was rock hard in Justin’s hand. His back and neck began to ache after maybe a minute of Justin’s torturous stroking. Joe had his eyes closed tight so he wouldn’t have to make eye contact with Justin, who was still fingering his ass hole in steady time with the stroking, in and out, in and out, in and out, up and down, up and down, up and down.

The pressure in his tight balls was immense, and the ache in his groin told him he needed to cum so badly. But the speed wasn’t enough. Joe opened his eyes and the tip of his penis was glistening with pre-cum. Justin seemed to notice Joe’s shaking legs.

“Faster?” Justin said, quietly. “Do you want me to go faster?”

Joe’s mind was swirling. _Yes, yes pleeaaaaseee,_ he wanted to say, _needed_ to say, but he knew the faster his cock was stroked, the sooner he’d be unloading on his own face like a real bitch. Justin curled his finger tight inside him, and Joe felt his prostate ping.

“Ughhh yes,” he moaned. “Faster daddy.”

Justin smiled, and picked up the pace. Now he was pumping away on Joe’s cock. Joe was drenched in sweat. It wasn’t just the tip of his cock glistening, but sweat beads sparkled all over his face, his chest, his abs. His legs were shaking feverishly, his toes curled as tight as they could go and his hands curled so tight in the bed sheets he could feel his blunt nails digging his palms. Justin got faster and faster. Joe could see only his dangling cock and the blur of Justin’s hand on it, and past that Justin’s stern face, biting his own lip in pure concentration, and his muscly arm moving up and down in perfect time. Then Joe felt it; the fire in his stomach and his balls, the pressure building to breaking point. He was going to cum. Justin could sense it too, and he said:

“Open your mouth, Joe, I want you to taste yourself.”

Joe complied just in time. No sooner had he opened his mouth than he shot. Once, twice, three times, four times. The first shot went straight in his mouth. He felt the warm stuff on his tongue and tasted the tanginess and saltiness. The second shot hit his teeth, and the rest sprayed everywhere, in his hair, on his chest, on his neck. His whole body pulsed and rocked. He felt his asshole tighten and relax around Justin’s finger with every shot.

When he was done his breathing was heavy and ragged. Justin took his finger out of Joe’s ass and let his legs fall to the bed with a bounce. Joe didn’t want to picture what he looked like, ribbons of cum on his cheeks, on his lips, and definitely in his hair. While he lay there, Justin’s hand came down to his face, and a finger made his way to his lips. Joe opened his mouth and sucked on it without thinking. Justin had taken it away before he realised it was the same finger that had been in his ass just moments before. After that climax, he hardly cared.

“I think we’ll keep you covered in cum like that, for now,” Justin said.

“Y-yes, daddy,” Joe said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Sorry for the long wait.


End file.
